The Door
by DaisyMaeEvans
Summary: Why am I standing in front of this bloody door?


The Door

Author's note: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. I just play in JKR's sandbox. Major thanks to my BetaGoddess PunimPotter for rescuing me at the last minute. You rock, sis!

The Door

April 20, 2011

How long am I going to stand outside this bloody door? I went flying for over an hour trying to get my head on straight. I came here once a few minutes ago but I couldn't do it. I couldn't open my own bloody door. I even put up my broom hoping she wouldn't fuss at me for leaving it outside. Maybe that'll help.

It smells so green out here. The trees are almost grabbing me with their heavy branches. The plants that Neville gave us are growing wild in their huge pots. Hermione's been tending to them carefully all spring. Yeah, yeah, spring is here, it's a beautiful evening. _Stop stalling, Weasley._

I need to do something, say something. I've been poisoned, cursed, broken limbs, had the shite beat out of me on more than one occasion, but nothing scares me more than walking through that door. I'm glad the team can't see me now: me, big bad Auror, scared by a 5'3" paper-pushing do-gooder. (Though she does have a damn good right hook and knows every hex in the book and some that aren't.) It's not fear of physical pain that has me trembling a little. No matter what anyone else has done to me, I've always known that I would survive. Only she has the power to destroy me. Losing her would be the Dementor's Kiss for Ron Weasley. And I may have just done it.

I hadn't heard the shitstorm coming when it all went to hell. It was just another day; shepherd's pie for supper. Rosie and Hugo were upstairs getting ready for bed, I was looking over the evening Prophet and Hermione was floating the dishes into the sink. "Oh, I spoke to the secretary at Brown Park today."

"What?" I asked Hermione, completely confused. (To be honest, I hadn't been completely paying attention as my mind was on the Quidditch playoff scores.)

"The grammar school on Magnolia Street. I was checking to see when they needed the paperwork to admit Rosie for September."

"Do what?" She certainly had my attention now. "Wait a minute, when did we discuss this?"

"I mentioned it last week. You seemed fine with it," she shrugged a soapy hand.

"We talked about a Muggle school? I don't remember that." _Maybe because you were ignoring her, tuning her out. _My conscience is a real pain in the arse.

"I think it's very important for her not to forget her Muggle heritage," she said in that matter-of-fact tone that either pisses me off or turns me on. At that point it was a little of both.

"Yeah I agree, but she is a witch. She'll have to live mainly in the magical world. I don't think she'd fit in in a Muggle school. She's pretty good at controlling her magic but she still has trouble when she gets mad. She nearly knocked out Jamie with a Beater's bat last weekend when he accidentally tore up her book!"

"She'll be fine, Ron. We'll just have to work on her self-control. I want her to be comfortable around Muggles and Muggle culture."

"She'll be miserable just like you were! She'll be different, they'll be scared of her and make fun of her the way they did to you!" I knew as soon as the words came out of my mouth that I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have dredged up those old hurtful memories.

Her eyes were flashing with hurt and anger. I'd hit the mark all right. "So you're saying only Muggles can be cruel to children and make fun of them? Does the name 'Draco Malfoy' ring a bell?"

"I just think she'd be better off with other Wizarding children. I mean, all my nieces and nephews have gone to the wizarding prep school. You're the one who insisted on donating money to it after the war!"

"So a Muggle school isn't good enough for your children? You don't want them contaminated by Muggle influences?" I could tell she was in full warrior mode now.

"That's not what I said!"

"Ronald Weasley, I've never been so ashamed of anyone in my life! I never expected my own husband to be spouting racist, elitist bullshit!"

I could not believe my ears. "I fought three battles, spent nine months in the woods, infiltrated the ministry, got captured, lost my FUCKING BROTHER to make sure that some maniac and his goons couldn't enforce their racist views on the world and MY OWN WIFE has the fucking nerve to call me elitist? I do not have to stand for this!"

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

I stood with my mouth open, staring into her eyes which were overflowing with the molten lava that normally would have transferred itself directly to my cock. The fact that my Hermione would say those things to me... "After all these years and everything we've been through, if that's what you really think of me, then fuck you." I turned my back on her and slammed the door.

So there you have it. Why I'm standing here outside my own door, waiting. For something, some sign that it's not too late. I've been through the "She's-being-unreasonable-she-started-it" and now I just want to get the apology over with and hope it works.

I suddenly feel a flash of heat coming from the coin around my neck. Shite, not now. I look at the coin and sure enough it is glowing bright red - Code Red. The letters HQ appear on the coin. I sigh in frustration. Wouldn't you know that the very spell my Hermione invented would be the one that takes me away from her?

I spare one more glance at the door and hesitate. I should go to her, let her know. I shouldn't leave her like this... I Disapparate without opening it. Hit the Ministry, Auror HQ at a near run right next to Harry. (Wanker's bloody fast, but I've got longer legs.)

"All right, Weasley, Potter." We stop in front of Chief Robards. Two other Auror pairs were just coming into the room. "Everybody, heads up. Screechrive's been sighted near the Welsh border."

My hands go into fists. I see Harry tense up too. Screechrive downed two Aurors last month and disappeared. We all wanted him and wanted him bad. "This is one badass mother, team, so you have to be at your max. No fuckups, lads and ladies." The six of us spent time going over the latest intel with the Chief and asking questions.

"Here." Harry hands me some parchment and a quill.

"Harry, we gotta go."

"You think it's dangerous on this mission, I don't want to even think what your life expectancy will be if you don't tell Hermione where you're going!" he hisses as he folds up the letter in his hand. _Ginny Potter_.

What kind of a prat am I? The first thought of Harry the Clueless is his wife and I was about to leave without a word to Hermione. _Not that she would care anyway_, that green voice in my head hisses. I'm suddenly slammed with a vision of her face as I threw down the locket and walked away from our camp, walked away from her_. You promised you'd never leave her again_, the real-me reminds the other voice. It's not nearly as loud, but somehow stronger anyway. No matter what kind of row we've had, I can't break that promise. I grab the quill and parchment_. Mission heating up, must leave immediately. Harry with me_. I pause a moment. I close my eyes. Everything disappears save a cloud of soft brown hair, a melted butter just-for-me smile, lively brown eyes shooting sparks that burn straight through to my groin, smooth peach skin arching into my hand...Hermione. Hermione. My stubborn, mental, anal-retentive lover who never gives up, never backs down and never abandons anyone who needs her. I look back at the note. If these are the last words I ever say to her I will say what I've known beyond a shadow of a doubt since I woke up in the Infirmary on my seventeenth birthday..._Love you, Ron_.

Harry grabs the letter with his. "Can you take these to the Owlery ASAP?" he says to the secretary.

"Sure, Auror Potter," she says, batting her lashes.

"Thanks," he says, trying not to grit his teeth. I can't help grinning just a little. He still gets all embarrassed by his female fan club. (I think he's scared that Gin's going to get in trouble for hexing one of them again.)

We both pick up our gear from our lockers and sign the mission-out log. "Ready, mate?"

He nods. "Let's get this fucker and get home."

April 23, 2011

How long am I going to stand outside this bloody door? It's dark, the lantern is lit. I feel a bit better knowing at least she's left the light on for me. I'm exhausted, filthy, I hurt all over. I just want to go in and hit the bed, but I know I still have apologies to make, anger to smooth over. I just don't know if I can do it.

Three days. It's a wonder I managed to survive but we all did. Badass in Azkaban, Aurors alive. Score one for the good guys. Three wet, cold, miserable, adrenaline-filled days of wondering how on earth I'm going to fix this mess with my wife. In the three days that I've been gone I've been going round and round everything in my head, (well when I wasn't watching my arse and Harry's of course) hoping we'll find a way through it as we always have. We've had some doozies before and we've always found a way back to each other, rough apologies and fierce sex. At least she hasn't taken the kids and scarpered back to her mother's. I can hear the dog barking so I know they're in there.

I open the door slowly and quietly. Out of the corner of my eye I see a tiny redheaded blur headed toward me at full speed. Said blur collides with my leg and grabs on screaming "DADDYDADDYDADDYDADDY!"

I pick her up. "Hey there, Rosie Posie Puddin'andPie! How's my girl?"

"'M good, Daddy," she reassures me as I start to carry her into the house. "Mummy's been all weird, though. She burned dinner last night." I had to hold back a grin at that. Hermione held it as a matter of utmost pride that she knuckled down and learned how to cook when she was pregnant with Rosie. (I still remember her hunched over her cookbooks and my mother's notes and recipes, muttering about ingredients and spells.) "An'...an' she was cryin' in bed last night." Something put a lead weight jinx on my stomach. Please not the tears. Bloody hell. I could handle yelling, the silent treatment, a hex, a punch, anything but the tears. I never could handle it when anything hurt my Hermione, but it was always nearly unbearable when I was the cause of her pain. "That's okay, Daddy. You're here now so everything'll be all better!"

The total trust in my little girl's wide brown eyes was enough to make me feel like crawling into a gnome hole. She grabs my hand and nigh-drags me through the door. "Mummy! Mummy! Daddy's home!"

"Daddy's home!" Hugo screamed, almost knocking me over as he throws himself at my knees. The dog follows him, jumping and wagging his tail.

"Easy there, little bludger," I grab Hugo and swing him the way he likes. He and Rosie squeal and yell, the dog barks and there's pandemonium for a few minutes. I gear myself up to look at her, look into those big brown eyes that I've been dreading and longing to see. She's just standing there, staring at me. I stare back. I don't have any idea what to do.

She starts toward me and I brace myself. Will she hex me, hit me, yell at me? Her little fuzzy slippers pick up speed and she's launching herself at me, hurling through the air like I'd _Accio_'d her. My Auror instincts kick in just fast enough for me to open my arms and let her bury her face in my chest. She sobs into my chest. Hermione doesn't cry very often; she's more likely to get mad and do something mental and/or brilliant. When she does cry, though, it's like everything else she does: intense, passionate, with her whole body and soul.

"Shh, love, it's okay," I tell her over and over. I'm trying hard not to tear up myself. The kids have quieted down and are standing there watching us. Both of them look a little scared. "Rosie, why don't you take your brother upstairs?"

"Okay, Daddy." She's worried and distinctly unhappy. She's so like Hermione; she has to know everything and take care of everybody. She grabs Hugo's hand and leads him up the stairs.

"Ron," Hermione's voice is a little calmer now. "Ron." There's something about the way she calls my name like that, like it's a prayer, that just makes me feel like I can do anything.

"I'm right here, love."

Her eyes are all red and puffy when she finally looks at me. She's a total mess but I don't care. (I probably am too.) "I'm so sorry, so sorry, sorry..." She's still sobbing, but at least I can understand her.

"For what, love?"

"I said all those horrible things to you and I didn't mean it and what if something had happened to you and the last thing I said to you was spiteful and horrible and..."

I almost laugh. I'd been tearing myself to shreds for days thinking she'd be mad and hurt and she's apologizing to ME? _Okay, here goes. Suck up and say it, Weasley._ "I said some pretty horrible things too and I didn't mean them either." Why does it always seem like I lose a little of myself when I have to say it? Oh, well. She's worth it. "I'm sorry too."

"But, at least you told me you loved me!" She thrusts the letter, the few sentences that I had written into my hand.

"Only 'cause I didn't say it before I ran off."

She takes my hand. "Listen, we still need to talk about the school situation, but I'm sure we can work out something that will be comfortable for both of us."

"And Rosie," I remind her.

She nods. "First let's get you a shower."

I grab her by the waist. "Are you saying I stink, woman?"

She wrinkles her nose and smirks at me. "Get a shower! Have you eaten anything?"

"No, came straight here."

"I'll warm you up some dinner." She turns toward the cooker. "Could you shut the door? It's getting a bit chilly in here."

I'd been in such a hurry to get home to her that I hadn't even realized how cool the evening had become. I take another sniff of the spring air and shove the door closed with my foot.


End file.
